


Second Contact

by Fiona James (Bluewolf458)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1867161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Fiona%20James
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sixteen years after Kirk reaches Vulcan, another Federation ship arrives</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Contact

**Author's Note:**

> This first appeared in Naked Times #18, a sequel to Eye of the Beholder (in NT 15), by Ray Newton, http://archiveofourown.org/works/1600082
> 
> It would be better to read Eye of the Beholder first.

Second Contact

 

by Fiona James

 

"We're through, sir."

 

Robert Garrovick leaned back in the command chair and, for the first time in three days, allowed himself to relax. Not that they were automatically safe; no one knew what lay on this side of the Cloud Barrier - that vast area of magnetic dust where navigation was impossible. It was customary for the news media to speak of vessels exploring unmapped territory, but normally the area had been examined, though only by long-range scanners. The Farragut, however, had truly gone into unknown space; and Garrovick was on his own as no Federation captain had ever been before. They had been out of touch with Starfleet command from the moment they penetrated the Cloud.

 

Garrovick had lived on a knife-edge for three long days. But the new navigational shielding had worked; instead of blundering around in circles until fortunate chance led them out of the Cloud - or unfortunate chance threw them deeper into it never to be seen again - they had been able to maintain a direct course. And now, after nearly seventy two exhausting hours, the Farragut had emerged on the far side of the barrier which, for as long as there had been space flight, had divided Federation territory from the outer edge of the galaxy.

 

"Heave to," Garrovick ordered as he rubbed weary eyes. Unlike his crew, who had, on his orders, worked normal hours, he had remained on duty since they first entered the Cloud; now he was keeping himself awake by sheer will power. "Sensors on full intensity. Is there anything within range?"

 

It was a vague question - he realized that at once - but, from the science console, Commander Shras replied, "No, Captain; no sign of any other vessel."

 

Garrovick stood and stretched wearily. "Very good, Commander. You have the con. Maintain yellow alert, and if anything does come within range, call me immediately. I'll be in my quarters."

 

"Yes, sir." Privately, Shras wondered if Garrovick would even reach his cabin before he collapsed. 1t was not, however, his place to say so.

 

As the bridge door swished shut, Shras turned back to his sensors. In this unknown space, he preferred to keep his own eye on his surroundings.

 

***

 

Nothing had happened by the time for change of watch. He hesitated when Lieutenant D'Amato approached to relieve him, then stood back to allow the junior officer access to the sensors. D'Amato was a reliable man, in line for promotion, if he couldn't trust him to maintain an alert watch, Shras knew he might as well forget about recommending him for promotion. "Maintain a constant scan," he ordered nonetheless.

 

Lieutenant Commander Sobienska had paused beside the command chair. Her gaze met Shras'. The Andorian nodded, acknowledging her presence. "Take over, Ms. Sobienska. Maintain yellow alert. Any problems, any sign of anything on the sensors, call me. If it is necessary, we can then call the captain. I would prefer, however, not to disturb him unless the situation is critical."

 

"Yes, Mister Shras."

 

Shras glanced around the bridge once more, then strode out.

 

***

 

The Farragut held her position for twenty four hours. Nothing came near. It seemed that space on this side of the Cloud Barrier was deserted.

 

Back in the command chair, a rested but still tired Captain Garrovick ordered the ship forward at warp one. It was time to explore.

 

***

 

"Unidentified vessel ahead."

 

"Put it on the viewer." S'Kirk was unwilling to disturb his bondmate, who was still not quite recovered from the fever that had struck down nearly ninety percent of the crew over the past month. Luckily for the T'Keera, S'Kirk was immune to it; the red blood that only two Vulcans aboard knew about appeared to be completely unpalatable to all disease organisms on this side of the great Cloud, although he had been somewhat disoriented during the height of Spock's illness. Fortunately, just as it was part of his duty to strengthen the Vulcan's self-healing ability, it was also a routine part of a Vulcan Healer's duties to strengthen a bondmate's mental barriers under such conditions. For that reason, no one had thought it strange that S'Kirk had been unable to maintain his own barriers against Spock's delirium, but had instead applied to Supek for assistance.

 

A distant vessel flashed into view, bringing S'Kirk's thoughts back to more pertinent matters. The bridge crew studied the ship cautiously. Its lines were completely alien, yet S'Kirk drew in a quick breath. For although the vessel was strange to his eyes, it was also completely familiar.

 

"A Federation ship!" he breathed, so quietly that not even the sharp ears of the nearby helmsman caught the words. Then, briskly, "Can you get a closer view?"

 

"Not yet, sir. We're on full magnification." T'Pella sounded vaguely apologetic.

 

"Life forms?"

 

°Too far away to detect any."

 

S'Kirk grunted. "Soren, call the captain."

 

This was an encounter the human felt himself unable to handle alone. After nearly sixteen years here, he had come to think as a Vulcan, even to consider himself as one; but this was a Federation ship - not just a survival capsule accidentally thrown through the Cloud or a small scout, but a starship. He had come through in the hibernation of a survival capsule, and had no personal experience of what a passage through the Great Cloud would be like; but before his involuntary journey here, he had met a man whose ship had accidentally penetrated the barrier but had been fortunate enough to blunder its way out again. That man had sworn that apart from the complete impossibility of navigating, they could have been in any sector of the Galaxy. So the crew of this starship would not be confused - if indeed they had survived - for he couldn't ignore the possibility that the vessel had been trapped in the Cloud long enough for everyone aboard to have died while the ship continued on automatic, finally to emerge here. Its direct course, however, encouraged him to believe that it was still actively manned. The crew might not be confused, but would probably be worried, wondering if their ship would ever return home. Yet they were all people who had chosen to spend their lives in space, people who knew that the normal everyday hazards of space travel meant they might never see home again - people on whom, with few exceptions, family ties sat lightly.

 

Memory stirred by that distant vessel as it had not been for years, S'Kirk recalled men he had known and the incident that had sent him here. Matt Decker, the recently appointed first officer of the Constellation, one of those exceptions, full of talk about his new son - the son he had not yet seen and, in the end, never had seen, unless his survival capsule had gone in the correct direction.

 

Captain Finnegan, almost paranoid in his wish to destroy the strange - and, as it turned out, impregnable - alien machine that had, instead, destroyed his ship. Four hundred men and women died with Finnegan; only twenty eight survival capsules were launched after the Constellation lost all power, their occupants the lucky few who had been in auxiliary control and within reach of life support suits when the ship was blown open by the aliens' weapons. And how many of those twenty eight capsules had carried their occupant to safety?

 

Wherever it had first come from, the alien vessel had been paralleling the Great Cloud when the Constellation detected it. When the survival capsules had been blasted free, their proximity to the Cloud meant that some of them were inevitably sent into it. His had somehow come through the Cloud and, against all odds, had been found. How many others still floated in the Cloud, cocooning the bodies of men or women who had never regained consciousness? How many had gone back in the direction of home, but had not been found in time? The capsules were small in the vastness of space; using one gave its occupant a chance, but it was slender indeed - a needle in a haystack, its emergency beacon detectable for only a light year around. And its life support capacity was quite limited - which was why its occupant was sent into immediate hibernation, to extend that capacity as much as possible. The Constellation had not even managed to send off a distress call, for the power generated by the alien machine had disrupted the communications waves. Starfleet would have remained in ignorance of the emergency until the next routine call to the ship was not answered.

 

Luckily, he had no one to mourn him. There was only his older brother, and he and Sam had never been particularly close. They had not been in contact for fully six years before S'Kirk's arrival on Vulcan - not since Sam and his family had moved to Deneva. S'Kirk had met his sister-in-law only once - the day she married Sam - and had never seen his nephews. He could not believe they would grieve for him.

 

The lift door opened and Spock came onto the bridge. He moved confidently enough, yet S'Kirk was not the only one to be aware of the lack of his customary vigor. The first officer rose to give him the command chair, and though Spock did not quite sink into it, he was clearly grateful to be off his feet again.

 

"A problem, Mister S'Kirk?"

 

"That ship, sir." S'Kirk indicated the viewer, adding over the bondlink, *It's a Federation starship, Spock.*

 

Spock glanced at his mate. *Your people? Have they then discovered how to travel through the Great Cloud?*

 

*I don't know. We're not even sure anyone's alive over there. They're too far away for the sensors to be accurate. But if they are alive... It could be chance, yet I can't see a starship accidentally blundering into the Cloud.*

 

"Soren, see if you can make contact with that vessel," Spock ordered.

 

"Aye, sir." There was a brief pause before he looked around. "They're responding, but they're on an unusual frequency and I cannot understand them. Their language doesn't correlate with any currently known to the computers."

 

"Put it on the audio channel," Spock said.

 

"Aye, sir."

 

"...vessel. This is the USS Farragut, Captain Robert Garrovick in command. We have come in peace from the far side of the Cloud Barrier."

 

*Jim?*

 

*They may expect us to have a universal translator.* To his horror, S'Kirk found he was having some difficulty in understanding the Universal Federation tongue.

 

*Do they?*

 

*Yes. But it'll take a while to become operative. Your way is quicker.*

 

Spock shrugged. "Spock, commanding the T'Keera of Vulcan," he said, knowing the aliens would not understand him.

 

"We are happy to meet an Intelligent race on this side of the Cloud Barrier."

 

The alien sounds meant nothing to the Vulcan. *Can you take it, Jim? Ask him to meet with us?*

 

*I'll try. I haven't even thought in Universal for years...* He straightened. "Farragut, this is S'Kirk, First Officer of the T'Keera. My captain wishes to meet you." *Here or there, Spock?*

 

*There. They understand the appearance of an alien.*

 

"He and I are willing to come aboard your vessel."

 

There was a short silence, then, "You speak universal?"

 

"I do. Nobody else here can. We can explain... when we meet with you."

 

"Very well. Do you have the transporter'?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Then we'll be ready to beam you aboard in five minutes."

 

S'Kirk turned to Spock. "They'll be ready for us in five minutes," he translated in Vul-can. He was aware of the puzzled glances and the odd muttered comment around the bridge, spoken too softly for even Spock to catch the words.

 

"S'Rani, you have control. S'Kirk and I will go aboard their vessel - no." He raised his hand to ward off the impending disagreement. "It will be perfectly safe. They are the strangers here. Should they attempt treachery, we are expendable and they can be destroyed long before they could escape." He only just prevented himself from saying, 'return to the Great Cloud'. It was too soon to let his crew know that he and S'Kirk knew where this alien vessel had come from.

 

"But... surely you will take two or three guardsmen?" S'Rani asked.

 

"I believe that to be unnecessary," Spock returned. "Come, S'Kirk."

 

As the pair left the bridge, S'Rani frowned. Surely his senior officers were being too confident. True, it would be utter foolishness for the captain of an alien vessel - and, by the Blades of the S'Kanderai, even at this distance he could see that it was a beautiful ship - to attempt treachery, alone and clearly many parsecs from his own people. And, on reflection, S'Rani realized that by going to meet them in this fashion, his captain was demonstrating to the strangers how strong he believed his position to be.

 

Then, with a start, he recalled the true mystery of the day; how had S'Kirk known the alien language?

 

***

 

"I think I knew the captain of the Farragut," S'Kirk told his mate as they made their way to the transporter room. "There was a Bob Garrovick at the Academy with me. Nearly twenty years... Yes, he could have made captain by now. He was good."

 

"And if it is the man you know?"

 

"He'll be very surprised," S'Kirk responded with a faint smile beneath his mask. "But even if it isn't, the Federation is always anxious to expand, and Vulcan does have a lot to offer. And the Federation has a lot to offer to Vulcan... "

 

They materialized in a transporter room the style of which had once been completely familiar to S'Kirk, yet now looked strange, almost clumsy. Half a dozen men stood behind the control console, and two red-shirts with drawn phasers guarded the door, standing in an attitude that said 'honor guard'. Spock appreciated the tactful caution of it all - wary without giving obvious offense - even as he heard his bondmate's softly indrawn breath.

 

*What is it, t'hy'la?*

 

*They... Spock, I see my own face in the mirror every morning; but I've only just realized how alien I must have looked to you when you first saw me! They look... they look like carrion worms...* His mental voice sounded ever so slightly nauseated.

 

*Never did I think to see the day when your own people would look more familiar to me than they do to you, Jim, Spock commented with a faint chuckle. Come - I doubt they will bite.*

 

The exchange had taken only seconds and, Spock knew, the silence could be taken as the natural assessment anyone would make of a new race. They stepped down from the transporter as a green/gold-shirted man moved forward, clearly having taken as long to assimilate their appearance - and, in particular, S'Kirk's silver mask. There was a slightly startled look in his eyes, and S'Kirk could guess his thoughts.

 

He was completely used to the appearance of the Vulcans - he could remember his own first reaction to the sight of them. Devil ears... And - what was behind that mask?

 

"Welcome aboard the Farragut. I'm Robert Garrovick, in command. This is Mister Chekov, my First Officer, and Doctor McCoy, Chief Medical Officer."

 

Spock glanced at his mate. *Jim?*

 

Garrovick's face had altered, matured, but he did recognize him. He remembered McCoy, too; he had been on reasonably friendly terms with the man who had been the junior doctor on board the Constellation for some months after Kirk was assigned to it. At the time, he'd felt that the friendship would have become closer if McCoy hadn't been promoted and transferred shortly before the ship was destroyed.

 

S'Kirk swallowed. "Hello, Bob. Mister Chekov. Bones." He took one moment to savor the shock on the Terran faces before he went on. "This is Captain Spock of the T'Keera. And I..." Deliberately, he raised his hands and removed his mask.

 

There was a moment of stunned silence, broken by McCoy. "Jim? Jim Kirk?"

 

"Hello, Bones," he said again.

 

"How...? We all thought you'd died!" Impulsively, McCoy threw his arms around S'Kirk and hugged him. The T'Keera's first officer returned the embrace with reluctant politeness, dropping his arms as quickly as was consistent with good manners.

 

"What happened about that thing that destroyed the Constellation?' he asked as McCoy released him.

 

"It was watched," Garrovick replied, seeming to have recovered from his initial shock. "The scientists tried to work out some way of destroying it, but in the end it wasn't needed. It kept going in a straight line, never went anywhere near any populated planets, and finally moved out of Federation territory a couple of years ago, heading toward Tholian space. We sent the Tholians all the information we had on it - which wasn't much - but they never acknowledged... not that we really expected a reply from them," he added as an afterthought.

 

"How many from the Constellation were rescued?" S'Kirk asked quietly.

 

"Sixteen," Garrovick provided. "Another five capsules were eventually recovered, but too late to revive their occupants. The others were never found."

 

S'Kirk nodded thoughtfully. "My capsule came through the Cloud. I was found in time. Spock, here, took me home, had me trained in their methods. I'm his first officer now." He was finding that, provided he spoke slowly and limited himself to simple sentences, he could communicate adequately. Fortunately, he was having no real difficulty in understanding what was said to him.

 

"And the mask?" Garrovick asked.

 

S'Kirk shrugged with a faint smile. "I look too... alien. Everyone on this side of the Cloud looks much alike. They all have pointed ears and green blood - so they all have green skin. The shade can vary, but it's always green."

 

"Related species?" McCoy suggested, glancing occasionally at Spock, who remained standing quietly at S'Kirk's side.

 

"I think so," S'Kirk replied. "There are only three intelligent races here - the Vulcans, the Romulans and the Orions. Spock is Vulcan." He hesitated, then glanced at his mate. The Vulcan could understand through the bondlink, yet it would be awkward having to translate everything Spock said. And S'Kirk wasn't certain that his Universal would stand up under the sudden strain.

 

*Teach them Vulcan?* he asked.

 

*If they agree.*

 

"Bob...." S'Kirk turned to face his one-time rival but still friendly acquaintance from Academy days. "Vulcans are..." He hesitated, struggling for the word. "They can read minds if they touch you."

 

"Telepaths?" Garrovick suggested.

 

"Yes. They do it on two or three levels. The easiest one - they don't read your actual thoughts - will teach. Spock can teach you the Vulcan language that way. It would be easier than translating." He saw the doubt on their faces, then added, "He could learn Universal from me, but I've forgotten many words and concepts in sixteen years."

 

"Well... " Garrovick said slowly. "Jim, what about Federation military secrets?"

 

"How many of those do you actually know, Bob?" S'Kirk asked pointedly. "Ones that would be useful to an enemy? If I say, 'We have three warships at the R'gul Base', does that tell you much? And how much of your ship's actual technology do you personally know?"

 

"That's true," Chekov put in, speaking for the first time. "They don't know our star systems. Even Mister Kirk won't know where all the starbases are after sixteen years. And the only secret equipment on the Farragut is the new navigational shielding - and none of us knows how that works."

 

Garrovick paused a few moments longer as if considering all angles, then nodded. "All right," he agreed, inclining his head toward Spock.

 

The Vulcan advanced, hand out-stretched. And moments later, the Farragut's captain stepped back again.

 

"Welcome to this side of the Great Cloud, Captain," Spock said quietly, inclining his head in greeting.

 

Garrovlck's jaw dropped. "Hey, that is useful" he gasped, apparently not realizing that, apart from a slight accent, he was speaking perfect Vulcan. "Instant language lesson. It's far better than the translator." He looked at Spock, his expression softening, then indicated McCoy and Chekov. "Them, too?"

 

"If they wish."

 

Garrovick turned to his officers as S'Kirk commented, "Remember to use Universal."

 

The other man stared at him blankly for a moment, brows narrowing.

 

"You were speaking Vulcan just now," Kirk explained.

 

"Oh... " Garrovick paused for a moment, then said carefully, in standard, "It doesn't hurt, and it'll be useful, gentlemen."

 

Chekov moved forward almost eagerly to accept the light meld; McCoy showed more reluctance. The transporter operator and the guards seemed relieved that they were not ordered - or invited - to be included.

 

When Spock's hand dropped again, McCoy frowned. "Is that all?" Then a look of shock dawned on his face as he realized that the sounds he had made were alien to his own ears, although he understood their meaning perfectly well. He swallowed, shaking his head, then turning to Garrovick as if for an explanation.

 

"Right... " The human captain smiled gently. "Will you come to my cabin, gentlemen? We can discuss things there more comfortably."

 

"Thank you," Spock returned gravely. "If I may first inform my ship of our situation?" He raised his communicator.

 

"Yes, of course, Captain Spock."

 

"Spock to T'Keera. We have established contact and will be in conference with the captain of the Farragut for some time."

 

"Acknowledged, sir," came the immediate response.

 

Spock nodded to the Terran captain, then closed the unit. "At your convenience, sir."

 

***

 

Once they were settled In Garrovick's cabin, the captain looked at his guests. "Do you still like brandy, Jim? And what about Captain Spock?"

 

S'Kirk grinned. "I haven't tasted brandy in sixteen years." To Spock, he added, *An alcoholic drink made from fruit*, even as McCoy said,

 

"Then it's time you treated yourself to a drop of it."

 

*Would I like it?* Spock inquired cautiously.

 

S'Kirk handed over the glass McCoy had just given him. "Try it."

 

Spock took a sip, an eyebrow lifting. "Most palatable," he commented.

 

*Watch it though, Spock,* S'Kirk warned. *It's pretty potent.* He held out his hand for the glass, and McCoy put a newly-poured drink into it.

 

Garrovick raised his glass. "To our better acquaintance, Captain Spock. And to understanding between our races."

 

The toast drunk, S'Kirk broke the stillness. "I never expected to see a Federation starship on this side of the Great Cloud. But Mister Chekov mentioned navigational shielding?"

 

Garrovick smiled. "It's one of Daystrom's brainwaves." The Terran word didn't translate, and Spock filed it in his memory. "He came up with some sort of shielding to the system - keeps it from being affected by the magnetic fields and lets us navigate accurately inside the Cloud Barrier. Mark you, nobody on board understands how it works - not even the chief engineer. But then, whoever fully understood the theory behind duotronics except Daystrom? This is the same sort of situation. Mac knows the wiring; he can fix it if anything goes wrong. But to understand the principles behind it? No."

 

He paused briefly, shook his head, then continued. "So far, we're the only ship equipped with the shielding. We were ordered to make contact with any intelligent races there might be on this side." He shrugged. "I certainly didn't expect to find that first contact had already been made."

 

S'Kirk glanced at his bondmate. "Only technically," he replied. "Apart from Spock and Supek, our Healer, Spock's father and Sandor - a friend - nobody here knows that I'm not Vulcan. I already told you that all the intelligent races on this side of the Cloud look much alike. You'll find that everyone else here will look at you as if... well, as if you'd crawled out from under a stone. It's nothing personal," he hastened to add, "but... Well, for a start, they all have completely dry skin - they don't have sweat glands. Although they live on very warm planets, their average temperature is much higher than a human's. If they get too hot, they lose heat through their ears; the blood supply is very close to the surface.

 

"That means that, to them, your skin looks pale, unhealthy, like... well, to be brutally honest, like that of a species of worm found on Vulcan. And it looks damp; slimy. It even looks that way to me," he added. "Spock is probably more used to your appearance than I am now, since he's used to seeing me without my mask."

 

Spock nodded agreement. "Jim is correct, Captain Garrovick. To me, you appear unusual, perhaps even exotic, yet the appearance of your species is quite familiar. I can accept you as easily as Jim accepted Vulcans - yet I assure you my crew, with the possible exception of Supek, will quite probably find it difficult to accept that you belong to an... intelligent race. However, the mere fact that you were able to navigate through the Cloud should help to persuade them that you are indeed intelligent."

 

The conversation continued for some time, and gradually the atmosphere In Captain Garrovick's quarters became confident and relaxed.

 

***

 

On board the T'Keera, the bridge crew waited with increasing impatience as time passed and there was no further contact from their senior officers. The alien vessel hung motionless, unthreatening; the Vulcans studied her curiously, trying to discover as much as possible about her and the life forms aboard her. They had little doubt that the crew of the alien ship - whose readings, although slightly strange, were surprisingly normal - was trying to discover as much as possible about them as well. That was expected. Yet the continued silence from Captain Spock and First Officer S'Kirk was disquieting.

 

S'Rani glanced over to T'Pella. "Can you detect readings for the captain and Mister S'Kirk? Are they all right?"

 

T'Pella frowned. "The alien readings are very similar to ours. There's just that touch of iron in their readings instead of the copper that's in ours... Hmmm... "

 

"What's wrong, T'Pella?"

 

"I can detect one set of Vulcan readings - but only one."

 

Soren looked around from the communications console. "I have Captain Spock."

 

"Put him on!" S'Rani snapped.

 

"T'Keera, this is Spock. We have established friendly relations with the captain of the Farragut."

 

"Captain?" S'Rani asked. "Is Mister S'Kirk with you?"

 

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

 

"Well...." S'Rani glanced at T'Pella, who only shrugged. "We've been taking sensor readings, trying to discover as much as possible about the aliens, and we were only able to detect one set of Vulcan readings."

 

"I see." On board the Farragut, Spock glanced at his bondmate. *It looks as if our little secret may very well be out in the open, Jim.*

 

S'Kirk grunted. *When I saw the Farragut, I realized that was almost inevitable.*

 

"Do not concern yourselves with the discrepancy," Spock advised his anxious crew as he thought quickly. "There may be some shielding on this vessel that is disrupting our sensors. Our meeting with the... strangers is going very well. I expect to be here for a while yet. Spock out."

 

"You have a well-trained crew," Garrovick commented.

 

Spock was silent for a split second, accepting the compliment as rhetorical; then, in response to a mental nudge from his mate, he said, "Thank you, Captain. I believe I could say the same for your crew."

 

Garrovick grinned. "Starfleet's finest," he boasted, making a sweeping gesture with one hand.

 

That sounds like a quotation," S'Kirk put in.

 

"Yes, it is," McCoy told him. "We were used to make a short recruiting tape a year or so back. 'Join the ranks of Starfleet's Finest. See the Galaxy. Go Where No Man Has Ever Gone Before'. So what happens? We do go where no man, etcetera... And what do we find? We've been beaten to it - even though it is just by one man."

 

"One man who didn't know where he was going," S'Kirk reminded him.

 

"And made a success of his life once he got there," Garrovick pointed out.

 

"That... was completely due to Spock," S'Kirk said quietly, glancing again at his mate. "Without him, I don't think I'd have lasted long. I was just an exotic curiosity that wasn't of any real use to anyone. Spock saw past that. But... " He indicated the mask.

 

McCoy frowned. "Jim... you're young, healthy." He grinned slightly. "I remember what you were like when we hit one of the R&R planets. If the people here don't know about you... well, what do you do about... you know... sex?"

 

"It's not a problem, Bones," S'Kirk assured him easily.

 

"It's got to be hell!" the doctor protested. "You're a normal, healthy male! Sure, I know, you can... " He cut himself off as he realized there was no word in Vulcan for what he wanted to say, then rushed on. "Your good right hand is no permanent substitute for the real thing."

 

*Are your people usually so inquisitive about someone's personal life?* Spock inquired.

 

*Well, it's quite normal for a group of Terran men to get together and boast about their sexual exploits,* S'Kirk admitted. *And it's quite normal for a man's friends to ask him how he got on the night before if they knew he was out with someone... and then to discount fully ninety percent of what he tells them. In this case, McCoy's a doctor. Human healers claim that the lack of sex is bad for people - especially for men.*

 

McCoy was still speaking, not realizing that, for a couple of seconds, he had lost the man he was addressing. "Look, why not stay on board the Farragut tonight? Captain Spock can say you stopped over to get to know us better. We'll throw a party - and if you can't find yourself a partner for the night in fairly short order, my name's not Leonard McCoy."

 

The bondlink suddenly went dead.

 

S'Kirk turned to look at his mate, but Spock was apparently fully occupied studying the table-top viewer. *Spock?* There was no answer, and the human suddenly realized that the Vulcan was allowing him the freedom to make up his own mind about what he wanted to do. Oh, Spock knew - and knew well - that he loved him, had chosen him freely. But was he, perhaps, wondering if the human would, at heart, have preferred a female partner?

 

"No, thanks, Bones," he said quietly. "You see, I've not had to depend on my right hand - not since the first few months. I have a permanent partner, and I don't want - or need - anyone else."

 

"But... Jim, you mean another man?"

 

"Why not?"

 

McCoy shrugged. "You were never inclined that way - I'll swear it."

 

"I discovered I was," S'Kirk replied quietly, then reached out to put a hand on Spock's. "I chose Spock freely, and I'm honored that he wanted me."

 

Spock gripped the human's hand. The link opened again and S'Kirk found himself swamped by the Vulcan's love, and just a hint of relief as well.

 

"Vulcan is a warrior culture, Doctor," Spock said quietly. "We have always honored those who chose to commit their lives to each other - whether that commitment was between two males, two females, or one of each, who chose to share love as well as battle. Today, we see little of battle; but we are prepared should it come. And who better to trust to defend our backs than our life's mate?"

 

The humans were looking slightly startled. It was Chekov who recovered first. "Earth had that kind of culture too, once. But most of our religions say it's wrong, that we should only mate in order to have children."

 

"That sounds like the teachings of the philosopher Surak," Spock commented quietly. "Perhaps it is one of the reasons he never found many followers. It is a waste of one of the greatest pleasures given to us by the gods."

 

S'Kirk glanced at him. "Surak? I don't think I know the name."

 

"He was regarded as something of a trouble-maker in his day. He preached peace, insisted that it was wrong to fight, that emotion was bad for us, that we should turn instead to logic.

 

"He found some followers, of course; a few. There's a small community of them still, living in the desert, a few miles from our home," Spock explained. "Occasionally, someone joins them, but fewer join than die. They are no danger to us; we leave them in peace."

 

"I suspect this Surak was a few years ahead of his time," S'Kirk commented. "I mean... think about it, Spock. Nowadays, we tend to live at peace - we trade perfectly happily with the Romulans and the Orions. And I've yet to see anyone lose control of his emotions - " *except during pon farr*, he added silently. "And Vulcans, at least, tend to think logically. Sound familiar?"

 

Spock stared at him in horror. "We're all following Surak's teachings - without realizing it?"

 

"Well, maybe not quite all of Vulcan. But certainly most."

 

Releasing S'Kirk's hand, Spock sat back, a stunned look on his face.

 

S'Kirk looked at his fellow humans. "I have a feeling we'd better get back to the T'Keera now," he said. "We've all had enough shocks to last us through the night." He reached automatically for the mask.

 

"Yes," Spock murmured. "I believe you are right... " He gathered his thoughts with an effort. "Captain Garrovick, would you and your officers care to visit my ship tomorrow?"

 

"Thank you," Garrovick replied with an eager smile. "And I'm sure that once we've had the night to think over all we've learned about each others' cultures, we can have more worthwhile discussions."

 

The two T'Keera officers left after polite - and too lengthy - farewells. And S'Kirk couldn't help noticing his bondmate's silence. They needed time alone; they needed time together.

 

Back on board the T'Keera, the captain and first officer went first to the bridge. Then, once they had ascertained that everything was running smoothly, Spock left S'Rani in command, then firmly led his mate from the bridge to their quarters. When the door shut behind them, Spock reached at once for the human, causing S'Kirk to chuckle.

 

"Oh... oh, let me get my mask off, Spock." He put it carefully on his desk, then turned into the Vulcan's arms, their mouths meeting hungrily.

 

"McCoy was right about one thing," the human said softly when they broke apart to breathe. "It's been altogether too long since you've loved me."

 

"It's just been a week," Spock murmured, nibbling the human's neck. "And people suffering from Kassaba Fever aren't usually able to make love... "

 

He claimed S'Kirk's lips again.

 

Finally, he raised his head to look in to the human's face. *Jim... Oh, t'hy'la...* They stripped their clothes away, dropping them to the floor in their haste. Spock lowered his mouth to Kirk's neck and from there nibbled his way down to a nipple. He tongued it erect, then moved to the other. S'Kirk moaned softly, clinging to the Vulcan. Spock felt something hard beginning to nudge between his thighs as the human's penis began to rise. He swung his mate into his arms, crossing to the bed. Laying his prize carefully on the bed, he bent over him again. Carefully, thoroughly, he covered every inch of S'Kirk's body with gentle kisses. The human moaned, trying to toss, yet Spock's hands held him firmly down. He returned to his mate's mouth, thrusting his tongue deep Into it while the human sucked avidly at the copper tasting intruder. He began to lick his way down the pale body, savoring the slightly salty flavor until, at last, he came to the erect penis, closing his mouth over it, sucking.

 

S'Kirk was so roused - and so frustrated from his week's abstinence - that he came almost instantly, spurting uncontrollably into the Vulcan's throat. Spock swallowed avidly, obviously hungry for the reward he had not tasted in seven days. At last, he raised his head. *You taste so good, Jim,* he mind-murmured.

 

S'Kirk pulled Spock's head down again, kissing him, wanting to taste himself on his bondmate's lips. *Love me, Spock,* he pleaded. *Love me... *

 

*Yes...*

 

Spock's fingers found the tight aperture they sought and stroked around it for a moment. Then one finger slipped into it, teasing gently. Soon it was joined by another, and he claimed S'Kirk's mouth once more. He plundered it greedily, knowing that as he penetrated it with his tongue, S'Kirk would be rousing again. The once-tight aperture relaxed and a third finger joined its mates. S'Kirk moaned again, the sound muffled in Spock's kiss. *Now, Spock. Now. Please... take me... *

 

The fingers moved away; Spock's penis found its target and easily slid deep into the tight channel. S'Kirk tightened his muscles, imprisoning the intruder. With an effort, the Vulcan remained motionless while his mate's muscles tightened and relaxed, tightened and relaxed.

 

*Now!* S'Kirk exclaimed again. *Love me, Spock... take me... love me... *

 

Spock pulled slowly away until only the head remained inserted. S'Kirk arched upward, silently begging to be filled again. The Vulcan thrust, then thrust again, all control gone now, while S'Kirk cried out under him, arching always up to meet him. Pleasure welled, peaked... and Spock, too, cried out as the semen flowed from him into the willing body that he now knew - beyond any doubt - was always and forever his.

 

At last, his penis slipped from S'Kirk's body, and he bent to lick the moisture from the human's climax where it pooled on the muscular belly.

 

Finally, the Vulcan straightened again. S'Kirk's eyes were half closed.

 

*Sleepy, t'hy'la?*

 

*Yes. Isn't it silly?*

 

*Not at all, Jim. It's been a very full day - and an emotionally exhausting one for you.*

 

*I suppose so... but I can't help feeling I'm failing you, falling asleep on you so quickly.*

 

Spock smiled. *I, too, am exhausted,* he admitted, *and more than ready to sleep.*

 

They snuggled together. S'Kirk fell asleep almost at once, but in spite of his claim of tiredness, Spock lay awake for a little while longer, savoring his happiness. He had never doubted the human's love for him, but he had been very aware that S'Kirk had no real choice in the matter. He had never expected that his bondmate would be able to leave, go back through the Great Cloud; but he had occasionally wondered, in the privacy of his most hidden thoughts, what S'Kirk would do should the opportunity arise. Now it had. And the human had made it very plain to his fellow Terrans that Spock was - and would remain - his choice of mate.

 

His grip on the human tightened slightly - not sufficiently to waken him - and his eyes closed. As he drifted into sleep, Spock knew he had never known such happiness.

 

***

 

When the captain and his bondmate walked onto the bridge the next morning, it was to find T'Pella already there, busily studying her sensors.

 

"Science Officer?" Spock asked.

 

"I thought it would be advisable to continue monitoring the aliens and their vessel. We have much to learn from them."

 

"I applaud your conscientiousness," Spock replied. "However, do I detect censure in your voice? Do you believe me lax in not ordering you to make such a survey?"

 

"Of course not, sir."

 

*Believe that if you like!* S'Kirk chuckled from his station.

 

"At any rate, your work will not be wasted, although it has possibly been somewhat redundant," Spock admitted. "We have invited the captain of the Farragut and two of his crew to visit the T'Keera today, as a gesture of trust. Soren," he added, "call the bridge replacements to duty, and then contact the Farragut. They should be ready to come aboard quite soon. After that, instruct Healer Supek to join us in the main briefing room."

 

"Acknowledged, sir," Soren replied briskly.

 

***

 

"What does the captain mean, 'they don't look quite like us'?" T'Pella muttered to the communications officer as Spock moved to his command chair. "Their readings are very similar to ours. They are intelligent. How can they possibly look so different?"

 

She soon found out.

 

The three men from the Farragut had two advantages that had been denied to S'Kirk all those years before; the entire crew had seen and admired the alien ship; and, thanks to Spock, the humans could now understand and speak Vulcan.

 

Despite these advantages, however, Garrovick soon discovered exactly what S'Kirk had meant. It was not that the Vulcans were unwilling to accept the existence of other intelligent races; it was simply that there was nothing in their experience to prepare them for meeting any intelligent race that did not look vulcanoid. The senior Vulcan officers listened to the information that Garrovick gave them about the United Federation of Planets with a growing wonder that did not - could not - disguise their underlying distaste at the alien appearance; and both S'Kirk and Spock watched the Vulcans' reaction with an assessing eye.

 

S'Kirk, of course, was anxious for his fellow Terrans to make a good impression on the Vulcans; while Spock, prejudiced in the aliens' favor by his long bonding with a Terran, was equally anxious for his fellow Vulcans to agree with his judgment that this was a race of worth.

 

The meeting was not long underway when the intercom buzzed. Spock, who had given instructions that they were not to be disturbed, reached out to switch on the receiver.

 

"Spock here." His tone boded no good for the hapless junior who had dared to disobey his orders.

 

"Sandir here, sir." The ensign who was standing in for Soren sounded just a trifle nervous; he was clearly well aware of his presumption in deciding to ignore the captain's orders. "A message has just cone in from Vulcan, sir. All vessels are ordered to abort their current missions and head immediately for Orion. They - " He hesitated for a split second, and now the tone of his voice warned Spock of trouble. "They have Kassaba Fever in the area around the spaceport."

 

"What?" Supek exclaimed. "How? No ship should have gone near Orion during the epidemic."

 

"They don't know, Healer."

 

*Epidemic - unknown source of infection... A carrier?* McCoy wondered.

 

"Mister Stretin," Spock snapped, "compute a course for Orion." He turned to their guests. "I'm sorry, gentlemen. We appear to have a medical emergency which must, for the moment, take precedence. I suggest - "

 

"Captain Spock," McCoy broke in, "I realize that we don't know the illness, but if it's serious, surely there's something we could do to help."

 

Spock looked at him. "What could you do? Your people are not telepaths - "

 

"Does that matter?"

 

Spock frowned. "Of course. There is no easy cure for Kassaba Fever, even for a Vulcan. For the Orions, it is usually fatal unless they receive telepathic assistance to help their bodies fight the fever."

 

"Don't you have any...?" McCoy broke off as he realized there were no Vulcan words for what he wanted to say.

 

"Apparently not," Spock told him quietly.

 

Garrovick cut in. "Let's discuss it en route, Captain Spock," he suggested. "Let me tell my ship to follow the T'Keera."

 

Spock looked at him, then turned his attention to McCoy. "Do you really believe there might be something you could do?"

 

"I don't know," McCoy replied honestly. "But if you'll let us, we'd like to at least try."

 

Spock glanced first at McCoy, then at S'Kirk. *Jim? What we don't have - do you think whatever he has in mind will be of any use?*

 

*Humans have used his methods of healing for a long time, Spock. Yes, they might work. But he'll have to get the chance to study Orion physiology.*

 

Spock nodded very slightly, then returned his attention to his crew. "Sandir, contact Captain Garrovick's ship."

 

"Acknowledged."

 

"Farragut here." The voice had a definite Scottish burr.

 

Spock nodded to Garrovick, who spoke at once into the communications panel.

 

"There's a medical emergency that's arisen on a world called Orion. This ship has been ordered to respond to it. You will follow it," he said, reverting automatically to Universal Standard.

 

"Aye, Captain."

 

Garrovick turned to S'Kirk. "Can you tell us the problem?" he asked, glancing at the Vulcans. "My apologies, gentlemen, but Mister S'Kirk is probably in a better position to explain to us than you are."

 

Apart from Spock, who merely nodded as he replied, "Of course,", and Supek, the other Vulcans looked at each other in open puzzlement.

 

S'Kirk gathered his thoughts. For this, he was going to have to speak Universal - quite apart from perhaps having to talk of concepts for which Vulcan had no words, he was still hoping he could maintain his rapidly dwindling cover. But before the could begin, the intercom sounded again. "Stretin, sir. Course for Orion computed."

 

"Execute at once," Spock ordered. "Maintain communications with the visitors' ship; it will accompany us. Proceed at the top speed they can manage as quickly as possible."

 

"Acknowledged."

 

The exchange had given S'Kirk time to think. Now he spoke, carefully choosing Universal Standard. "There are only three intelligent races on this side of the Cloud," he said, repeating what they had already been told, and finding he was speaking more fluently as he went on. "As I said, all are of the same physical type. However, Vulcans and Romulans have mental abilities that the Orions don't. Within limits, those two races can control their bodily functions. If they cut themselves badly, they can control the bleeding; internal injuries - they can concentrate on the wound, speed up the healing. Medical care is almost completely limited to mental assistance. Supek is our Healer, but his main function is to strengthen the mental control for anyone who's not quite strong enough to do it for himself. He has to deal with injuries like broken bones, where having someone else around to set the bond can be necessary, but he doesn't have the sort of skills that human doctors have."

 

"Surgical rather than medical?" McCoy asked.

 

S'Kirk nodded. "I've had to be careful," he added wryly. "Luckily, I've proved to be immune to all the illness on this side of the Cloud, so I don't think any of you are in any danger.

 

"Illnesses, especially fevers, are a little more difficult for the Vulcans to handle than a straightforward wound, but it's only rarely that they're seriously affected. Kassaba Fever is one of the bad ones; but even so, it's rarely fatal." He paused briefly, gathering his thoughts, then continued. "For nine years out of every ten, you rarely see Kassaba Fever; but every ten years or so there's an epidemic of it. This is one of those years - the second one I've seen. Practically everyone on the T'Keera has been affected in the last month - but we seem to be over it now. There are just two or three convalescents on board, and nobody that's actually ill.

 

"In an epidemic year, the Orions go into a self-imposed quarantine. They have enough control to, oh, stop a cut from bleeding; but they don't have sufficient control over their bodies to resist the fever the way Vulcans and Romulans do, so for them, Kassaba Fever is deadly. Apparently," S'Kirk concluded, "this time they didn't take action quickly enough."

 

"Captain Spock said something about telepathic help?" McCoy commented.

 

S'Kirk nodded. "Yes. Because the Orions have a very limited ability to heal themselves, if a Vulcan or Romulan with strong enough telepathic abilities can link minds with them before they get too ill, he can strengthen that ability. But there aren't many who are strong enough - on the T'Keera we have probably fifty or sixty - and it's very tiring. So in a situation like this, we can really only help a handful of the Orion sick." Regret colored his voice. "There are always a few - traders, diplomatic staff - living on Vulcan or Romulus, who are caught in an epidemic year. Choosing who to help... and ignoring those who are beyond being helped against the pleas of their families.... It's not an easy decision, Bones."

 

McCoy frowned thoughtfully. "So the Vulcans don't have actual medicines? Antiblotics? Vaccines?"

 

"No. No, they don't." A wry note entered his voice. "Last epidemic year, I could have mentioned those to Spock; but by then, I'd been here roughly six years and already I was so used to thinking like a Vulcan that I'd completely forgotten about antibiotics. Not that it would have done much good at the time; but in the years since, the healers could have tried to develop something - if they could have been convinced of its usefulness," he added doubtfully. "After all, it would have been even more revolutionary than inoculation first was back on Earth." He shook his head. "They just plain don't have medicines. I don't think they even have the concept, because it's not something they've ever really needed."

 

"I'd have thought the Orions - " McCoy began.

 

But S'Kirk shook his head. "The Orions didn't have any history of illness until they made contact with Vulcan and Romulus. But of course, they're the same physical type. They were susceptible to Vulcan and Romulan germs."

 

"And to the Vulcans, all illness is in the mind, huh?" McCoy grumbled.

 

"Yes."

 

The human doctor sighed. "I suppose a lot of the time it is," he agreed. "The will to survive and get well again is often better medicine than all the drugs in the world. But there's no doubt that the will to live is helped by the correct drugs."

 

"Bones, you may not be able to do much," S'Kirk warned. "Remember, the people here have green blood, copper based. It's only four days to Orion at top speed. You have only that long to come up with something."

 

"If your Vulcan friends co-operate, it might be possible," McCoy replied hopefully. "You said the crew was affected by this Kassa Fever?"

 

"Kassaba Fever. Yes."

 

"Then I should be able to get a supply of antibodies from their blood. Even if they've wished themselves better, there should still be antibodies in their blood."

 

As S'Kirk looked at the doctor, Spock's soft mental voice came to him. *If I understand him correctly, McCoy thinks he can use our blood instead of our minds to help the Orions?*

 

*It's a method that's been used on Earth for hundreds of years,* S'Kirk confirmed.

 

Spock inclined his head ever so slightly. *Fascinating. We can suggest it, ask for volunteers, Jim, but I will not order anyone to do this.*

 

S'Kirk nodded. *Will I inform the crew?*

 

*Yes. You will be able to explain better than I,* the Vulcan confessed.

 

S'Kirk looked at the Vulcans seated around the table, waiting patiently for the flood of incomprehensible sounds to finish. "Humans are not telepathic," he said at last, returning to the Vulcan language. "They must therefore use other methods to heal sickness. The human heater believes he can use one of his methods to help the Orions - if you agree to help him."

 

"In what way?" Supek inquired.

 

S'Kirk glanced at Spock, then continued. "All he needs is some of your blood - samples from everyone who suffered the Fever. He can use this to... " He shook his head. "There aren't the words to tell you properly."

 

McCoy, who had explained Federation medicine to primitive races in the past, broke in impatiently. "If you've had the Fever and recovered, there is a special substance in your blood. I can take that substance out and put it into the blood of the Orions. I can probable get enough serum" - he used the Universal word - "from each of you to treat a dozen Orions. I understand that some of you can, at best, help one or two of the sick, and a lot of you don't have the ability to help at all. This way," he concluded, "everyone could help, and many more of the Orions could be saved."

 

There was a brief buzz of astonishment from the Vulcans seated at the table. T'Pella waited for a moment to give Supek the opportunity to question the alien's confidence; then, when he remained silent, she spoke.

 

"I conceded your goodwill, but how do we know we can trust this new healing? How do we know it will not harm us?"

 

S'Kirk repeated quietly: "Humans have used it for centuries."

 

"You trust it then?" T'Pella asked.

 

S'Kirk could see the unspoken, intolerant comment - 'How can anyone who looks so different be intelligent enough to accomplish this'. "Yes," he said. "I trust it."

 

"But you will not be asked to risk anything. You will be unable to give your blood. You were not ill," T'Pella reminded him.

 

"There is something else," Soren put in. "These humans are strangers here - you could say, our guests. I admire their wish to help, but we should not be exposing them to danger. How do we know they will not be as susceptible to the Fever as the Orions?"

 

"They are immune," S'Kirk said quietly.

 

Soran's brows narrowed. "How can you know?"

 

*I have to tell them, Spock.*

 

*Agreed.*

 

S'Kirk took a deep breath. "I know because I am immune. You see... " He reached up and deliberately removed the silver mask. There was a startled gasp, quickly suppressed, from someone, S'Kirk was not certain who.

 

"Supek!" T'Pella breathed incredulously. "You knew?"

 

The healer's head inclined. "Yes. I had to know." He looked around the table to the other startled Vulcans. "If S'Kirk trusts these men and believes that their healing might help in this emergency, I think we should be prepared to try it. For the sake of the Orions, I think we dare not refuse to try, my friends."

 

There was a long silence which S'Kirk finally broke. "I knew Doctor McCoy in the days before I came through the Cloud," he told the Vulcans. "He is highly skilled in human methods of healing. If anyone can pull this off, he can." He looked at the still-stunned faces, then resumed his mask. "I do not believe we need to inform the rest of the crew of my origins - yet."

 

No one disagreed.

 

***

 

The crew was soon informed of the situation. True to his word, Spock did not order the crew to give blood, but he himself offered the first donation. And with that example, the senior officers were quick to follow. AFter that, sheer pride would not let the rest of the crew refuse, although some made it clear that they would prefer their own healer to take the blood, unskilled though he was at doing so. He was quick to learn, however.

 

McCoy beamed the blood back to the Farragut where he had the facilities to process it. With the three aliens returned to their own ship, though they could see it in the rear viewscreen following them, the Vulcans seemed to breath a mutual sigh of relief. Even the senior crew, who now knew S'Kirk's secret, relaxed; the damp, nauseatingly pale alien face was safely hidden behind the familiar mask, and they could put out of their minds the disquieting knowledge that their first officer was - far from being the beauty they had supposed - in fact, incredibly ugly. But they had known S'Kirk for years, they had served with him; and he was bonded to their captain. As long as he continued to wear the mask, they could forget his appearance and remember his character.

 

***

 

Aboard the Farragut, McCoy and his medical staff worked unceasingly on the preparation of a serum. The human doctor had taken blood from those of the crew who had not contracted the fever as well, and used it to study the composition of the strange green blood. He soon discovered that several of these samples also contained antibodies - possibly from an earlier attack; or else their bodies had manufactured them before the disease had had a chance to develop. A couple of the samples proved to contain bacteria. He promptly contacted the T'Keera.

 

"McCoy here," he said quietly. "I'd like to speak with Healer Supek."

 

There was a moment's silence, then, "This is Supek."

 

"I'm checking the blood samples I took," McCoy explained. "A couple of the ones from the crew who haven't had the Fever are showing up... Damn. There isn't a word for it in Vulcan. We call it 'bacteria'. I think they're going to come down with it pretty soon. Numbers fourteen and eighteen. Eighteen is the worst."

 

"I will check them, Doctor McCoy."

 

Supek broke the contact and reached to check the list of blood donors. Then, wondering where it would all lead, he turned to the Intercom. "Lieutenants Sa'ler and Sacha report to Sickbay immedlately."

 

The two officers arrived together within a very few minutes, and Supek studied them as they walked toward his desk. Sacha looked slightly flushed, and it was to him that Supek addressed his words.

 

"Are you feeling sick, Lieutenant?"

 

Sacha looked faintly surprised. "Yes, Healer. I believe that I may have Kassaba Fever. I intended to report to you at the end of watch, by which time the symptoms would have been clearer." He studied the healer cautiously. "How did you know?"

 

"The human doctor told me," Supek revealed quietly. "It seems that he could tell by studying the blood he took from you. You will return immediately to your quarters. Will you require my assistance?"

 

"No, Healer. I think I will manage."

 

Supek inclined his head in acknowledgement. "If you feel yourself growing weaker, contact me at once." Sacha nodded agreement, then turned and made his way out as Supek turned to the other man.

 

"And you, Sa'ler?"

 

"I feel perfectly well."

 

"Monitor yourself," Supek suggested.

 

There was a brief pause. "I can detect nothing wrong, Healer."

 

Supek grunted. "According to the human, you, too, have contracted the Fever. You will remain here so that I can monitor you."

 

"But, Healer, my duties - "

 

"Your conscientiousness is noted. However, it occurs to me that if the alien doctor's methods can diagnose an ailment faster than ours, there is much to be said for them. I wish to check for myself how much faster they might be. You will remain here."

 

Sa'ler's dark head bowed. "Yes, Healer."

 

***

 

Twelve hours later, McCoy returned to the T'Keera. As he had requested, Supek was waiting for him.

 

"How are fourteen and eighteen?" he asked.

 

"Sacha is already ill," Supek revealed. "He was ill when I sent for him. Sa'ler continues to insist that he is perfectly all right."

 

McCoy frowned. "I'd like to get another blood sample from him for testing."

 

"If he agrees."

 

"You think he might not?"

 

Supek sighed very softly. "Not all of the crew are open-minded enough to trust... alien ways," he said, almost apologetically.

 

"But they follow Jim," McCoy pointed out.

 

"They do not know about S'Kirk. He has adjusted completely to Vulcan ways."

 

McCoy considered all the years Jim Kirk had spent an this side of the Cloud. "I suppose he had to," he commented quietly.

 

"Yes, indeed."

 

***

 

In Sickbay, the two doctors approached the bed on which Sa'ler lay, a disgruntled expression on his face as he studied a small hand viewer. He looked up at their approach and scowled.

 

"Sa'ler," Supek began quietly, "Doctor McCoy would like to take more blood from you."

 

The Vulcan's face tightened. "No. I have already given as much as anyone else. I do not need to give more."

 

"Sa'ler, I promise you the disease is in your system," McCoy said gently. "I could detect it twelve hours ago. All I need is a little blood - just a drop - to see how the disease is progressing."

 

"There is nothing wrong with me, alien!" Sa'ler snapped.

 

"Sa'ler," Supek intervened, "I would be most unhappy to be forced to involve the captain or Mister S'Kirk in this matter."

 

Sa'ler glared at him. "These aliens may have fooled you and the captain, but they don't fool me! I know how I feel. I am perfectly well."

 

"Then prove it to me by letting me take a drop of blood to test," McCoy said. "It won't hurt." A moment's thought made him realize a possible cause of the Vulcan's unwillingness. "Or let Healer Supek take it if you can't bring yourself to let me touch you."

 

The look on Sa'ler's face told both doctors quite clearly that McCoy had discovered Sa'ler's main reason for refusal; Supek took the equipment from McCoy and quickly obtained the necessary blood.

 

Supek - and even Sa'ler - watched with interest as McCoy quickly set up a microscope, smeared the blood on a slide, and bent to examine it. After a moment, he straightened. "The bacteria is definitely multiplying," he said at last. "I suspect you'll start feeling ill quite soon. Here. Look, Supek." He drew a small box of slides from his bag. "This one - " he slotted it into position - "is from number four. As far as I can tell, it's perfectly normal Vulcan blood."

 

Supek bent over the microscope. "Amazing!" he exclaimed after a moment.

 

"This one is the earlier sample from Sa'ler. Can you see the difference?"

 

After a brief pause, Supek replied. "Yes. There are little spirals here that were not in the other."

 

"That's the bacteria. Now, this is the sample you just took."

 

"There are a lot more of the spirals." Supek looked up, startled. "They're moving!"

 

"Yes. They're alive and multiplying. Once they multiply sufficiently, he'll begin to feel ill. Next, this one - " he slotted in a fourth slide - "is the sample I took from your captain."

 

"It is different, too," Supek conceded. "Only a few of the spirals... but there's something else."

 

"Yes. Those are what we call antibodies in the captain's blood. The antibodies kill the bacteria and the patient recovers. Obviously your methods encourage your bodies to develop antibodies even though you don't know that's what you're doing."

 

"And what are you doing?" Supek inquired.

 

"We're taking the antibodies out of the blood. Then we'll put them into the blood of the sick Orions. That'll encourage their bodies to continue developing their own antibodies. That's an over-simplification, of course - there aren't the words in Vulcan to go into the technicalities of the method." He sighed. "I just wish we could do a few tests first, establish a proper dosage... "

 

Supek frowned and pulled McCoy into his office. I wouldn't say too much in front of Sa'ler," he warned once the door was shut. "I don't say he's a trouble-maker, but he hates being proven wrong. If there's anything he could do to prove that you've made a mistake, he'd probably do it."

 

McCoy considered that for a moment. "You think he does know he has the Fever and he's refusing to admit it because I've already said he has it?"

 

"No... not yet. I think he may be afraid that you're right. He's been so insistent that he doesn't have it, he's probably worried that everyone will laugh at him for being ill and not knowing it. Of course, they won't, but... "

 

"But you can't persuade anyone who's that thin-skinned that he isn't being laughed at," McCoy concluded.

 

"You have people like that?" Supek sounded surprised.

 

"Yes. Oh, yes." McCoy grinned. "I think we have a great deal in common, you know. Look at the way Jim's adapted. Have you known him all these years?"

 

"Almost."

 

"Was there ever any danger that anyone would guess he wasn't Vulcan?"

 

"Not from his behavior, no," Supek replied.

 

McCoy's grin widened. "I don't think our races will find it hard to get along, once your people get used to the way we look."

 

Supek smiled. "I believe you could be right, McCoy. Now... what were you saying about tests?"

 

McCoy sobered. "Well, dosage can be a problem. Give too little, it's useless; give too much, that can be worse than useless. You need to find the optimum dose, both to cure a contracted case and to prevent someone who doesn't have it from getting it."

 

"I see... " Supek thought for a moment. "Doctor, the other crewmen aboard who did not contract the Fever - is there any chance that they might, even yet, do so?"

 

"It's possible," McCoy conceded, "if the Fever is as virulent as you say."

 

"I think - if you don't mind - you should check their blood again. And again in another twelve hours. Most are very reasonable; if I were to explain the situation to them, perhaps. If any were to show signs of having these spirals in their blood, perhaps we could get volunteers from among them to test your method."

 

*Jackpot!* McCoy thought. Since the suggestion - which had occurred to him a while ago - had come now from the Vulcan healer, he could be sure of far more co-operation than if he'd suggested it himself.

 

"Supek, I think you've got an answer."

 

***

 

By the time the T'Keera swung into orbit around Orion, McCoy's methods had been thoroughly tested. Sacha, whose strength had not been sufficient to enable him to defeat the Fever unaided, had been cured by the serum, as had three others who had allowed the Fever to develop and made no personal attempt to cure it. Five others who had begun to show the first signs of the Fever bacteria had been injected and had not developed the Fever, and three others who had not begun to develop the Fever at all had been injected and were showing no signs of contracting it. And although that didn't prove anything, it did give McCoy an idea of a suitable dosage for vaccination. However, Sa'ler, who had developed the fever some thirty six hours after McCoy first detected it, had refused to accept the human's treatment. He never realized - and it would have galled him unutterably if he had - that even though he refused to give them voluntary help, the healers had learned something from him: namely, how much earlier human methods could detect an illness.

 

Fortunately, the Orion authorities had acted quickly once they realized the Fever had reached them, and the epidemic had been restricted to the area immediately around the spaceport. Once reassured that Vulcans had been cured using the alien methods, the Orions accepted the strange help and were astonished that, once help arrived, only some ten percent of the worst affected died. Using the only method that had been available to them in the past, barely ten percent would have survived. It was therefore quickly obvious that, for Orion at least, the alien methods of healing made friendly contact well worthwhile. The goodwill of the aliens was made all the more obvious when they assured the authorities that they were more than willing to give Orion a free gift of the knowledge.

 

Supek and the Farragut's medical staff remained behind on Orion when the T'Keera began to lead the Farragut back toward Vulcan so that Garrovick could present the Federation's case to a combined Vulcan, Romulan and Orion delegation. The Great Cloud, it seemed, was no longer a barrier.

 

***

 

Alone in their quarters, the captain and first officer of the T'Keera relaxed at last. Both were very tired.

 

S'Kirk removed his mask, rubbing his face as he yawned. "I'm glad that's over, Spock."

 

"Agreed. I am always glad when a Fever year is past; and although it is not in fact quite over, this new healing must take most of the dangers out of it."

 

"Yes. For the Orions at least, Federation medicine will be a life-saver. That'll be of great value to us."

 

"Us? With your own people here, you still say 'us'?"

 

"Spock, I've been here nearly half my life, knowing that there was no way to go back. Is it so surprising that I think of myself as Vulcan? That I think of Vulcan as home? I had nobody back there, Spock. I had plenty of acquaintances that I called friends, but no really close friends - I was too busy working for promotion - or family, except for a brother I hadn't seen in years. Here... here, I have you, my bondmate, and friends - the senior crew here, and Sandor back on Vulcan. Even if Garrovick offered to take me back, I would choose to stay, t'hy'la."

 

He read the overwhelming relief in Spock's mind, though the Vulcan said simply, "I am pleased to hear that - and now I'm sure we can find something more interesting to talk about than Kassaba Fever, Jim."

 

"Personally," S'Kirk grinned, "I wasn't planning on doing much talking... "

 

He moved into Spock's arms, grateful to be home.

 

End


End file.
